Christmas Child: an absolutely heartbreaking and emotional Victorian romance by Carol Rivers (classic english novels txt) 📕

Chapter 51

Ettie stood shivering, expecting the worst. But today the doctor was absent, replaced by a young female orderly.

‘Who give you them bruises?’ the girl demanded.

‘I fell in the tunnels.’

‘Don't look like a fall to me.’

‘I’m fit to work,’ Ettie insisted. ‘The sewers are slippery and I hit my head on the side.’

The orderly pushed a stray lock of dowdy brown hair under her mob cap. ‘I ain’t here to listen to your complaints. Get down on yer knees and stick yer head over that pail. I'm using the carbolic to kill those buggers in yer hair.’

Before Ettie could protest, she was pushed down on the wet floor. The strong smell of the lice-killing disinfectant washed into her nostrils. The girl's needle-like fingers probed into her scalp.

‘Now finish yerself off,’ panted the girl after her exertions. ‘My back is breaking.’

Ettie raised her arms painfully, trying not to reveal the agony each movement caused. Her thoughts returned to the salon and the pump in the backyard where she had washed her hair, enjoying its gentle flow. On a fine morning, the sun would dip in between the roofs and dry it. She had never thought then that her life with the Benjamins was to end.

‘Hurry!’ the orderly commanded. ‘I ain’t got all day. Dry yerself off and make yerself presentable. There’s others to come after you.’

Ettie wondered who the others were? But before she could ask, the girl pushed a coarse towel into her hands.

Ettie drew her hair over her shoulder and plaited it, relieved at least to have a little more sight in her eye. When she had finished, the girl wore an expression of disapproval.

‘You’re as ready as you’ll ever be, s’pose,’ she huffed.

‘Am I to go before the Master?’

‘The Master?’ the girl repeated in surprise. ‘Ain’t you heard? Early this morning they dragged him 'orf on the back of a cart. Him trussed up like a stuck pig ready for the knacker’s yard and Matron bawlin’ her eyes out beside him. Good riddance to the pair of ‘em, I say.’

Ettie stared in disbelief at the orderly. ‘You mean he was …’

‘Dead as a doornail.’ She stuck her hands on her hips, eyeing Ettie spitefully. ‘But don't get yer hopes up, dearie. A new Master might be twice as bad as the old. And where you’re going might be even worse than here.’

Chapter 52

Ettie stood huddled against the wall of the exercise yard. The news of the Master’s demise had come as a shock. Had he died as a result of the fit after she left his room?

Standing beside her was a thin man with red, bushy hair. He was so thin that his bones stuck out from under his ragged coat. Next to him a young boy scratched at the pus-filled blisters on his face. A hunched and bedraggled woman stood with two little children; their starved features almost skeletal. Beyond this were the lame and aged who shivered violently in the cold December wind.

Her alarm increased as a stranger strode into the yard. He walked with a slight limp and was aided by a cane. Wearing a large felt hat positioned over his eyes and a heavy greatcoat, he came to a sudden halt. Two burly male orderlies stood with him.

‘Be quick, bring the rest,’ said the man to one of them. ‘I’ve much to attend to today.’

The orderly hurried off and Ettie was filled with trepidation. Why were the inmates made to stand out in these bitter conditions? The grey walls loomed above them and the stormy sky threatened rain.

Two young women with painted faces swaggered into the yard. They tossed back their tousled hair with defiant expressions. She guessed they must be new to the workhouse as she had never seen them before.

The man with the cane addressed them, though Ettie couldn’t hear what he’d said. One stepped forward and crudely adjusted her blouse to display her full breasts. This sight had no effect whatsoever on the man. The woman, apparently enraged that her offer had been rejected, broke into a stream of vile language. Her companion soon joined the fracas.

Ettie’s heart thumped wildly. Under the brim of the man’s hat, she glimpsed a cold, impenetrable stare. He gave an instruction that soon had the two women removed.

When all was quiet, the man limped slowly up and down. He inspected every one of the inmates. When it came to her turn, Ettie cast her eyes down, as she had learned to do in the workhouse. The seconds dragged as his shadow hovered over her.

By the time he limped away, Ettie was certain that he had decided on some terrible fate to befall her.

‘I am the new Governor,’ came a harsh voice that roused Ettie from her fearful thoughts. ‘I want you to pay attention. I will be assuming the late Master’s position. My wife will assist me as Matron.’

Ettie’s head came up, as did all the others along the row of inmates. She stared at the new Governor. The woman who had come to the dormitory this morning must be his wife. So, the Master really was dead.

‘I have been charged with the duty of reforming the workhouse,’ the Governor continued. ‘The borough is not a philanthropical society. It does not have bottomless pockets. And it has come to our understanding that this workhouse suffers from a squandering of generosity. This means I shall trim off the excess fat, cut down to the lean, and restore order.’

He took a slow, inward breath. ‘The healthy amongst you will be found more productive work to do. Your wages will be added to the government’s coffers in repayment for your board and lodging.’ He straightened his shoulders and leaned both hands on his cane. ‘All of you have been inspected and passed the medical examination. Think yourselves fortunate to be among the first to offer your assistance to this noble country in return